Saturday, June 25, 2011

Amazed

‘So whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.’ – 1 Corinthians 10:31

On this blog, when I talk about looking for the glory of God, I don’t use the term lightly. What I mean is: Where did I see his power, love, and wisdom? Was I aware of his work in challenging and changing me? Have I stopped to take grateful, awe-struck note of his preposterous blessings – his grace and favour and goodness in everything from hot tea to raucous laughter to the hope of heaven? How have I seen him reaching into a concrete, hurting, hoping world to leave his divine, eternal fingerprints?  Have I recognised his glory in holding all things together – galaxies and ordinary lives?

This week, I saw splashes of glory all over the place.

I saw God’s glory in Cam (almost) getting it right to pedal his cousin’s ancient blue bike. (He’s saving up for a new one. He gets 50c every time he feeds Lola. I reckon when he gets to about R7,50 we’ll just chip in the rest. J)

I saw God’s glory in Scotty ‘cruising’ along the coffee table, and trying desperately to climb the burglar bars like his brother. And in his one-raised-eyebrow, astonished, quizzical, flirty look. And in a new tooth and the relief of knowing that maybe some of the snot and misery will now cease.

I saw God’s glory in Cam’s amazing way with words. I was changing Scott’s nappy the other day and Cam yelled to me (politely and sincerely) from the playroom, ‘Mom! You’re welcome to come and play with me!’ This morning he used a metaphor and a simile in one breath: ‘Mom, is Scott’s head a ball with a forehead? Like a pebble?’ With him, it’s all a matter of semantics. Yesterday he was jumping all over Scott so I said, ‘No Cam! Don’t squash him.’ ‘I’m not squashing him,’ he replied, ‘I’m just squishing him.’ (Which of course made it all ok.)

I saw God’s glory in the way Cam’s other senses are so highly developed. He can taste the difference between Ceres lemon iced tea (‘the one with the green lid’) and ‘Pick ‘n Pay lemon iced tea with the yellow lid’. He vastly prefers the latter. A less biased person than his mother might just say that he is ridiculously fussy.

I saw God’s glory in the way he so often answers our prayers to bring people into our home, and to make it a place of peace, where Christ is King. I saw his glory in a week full of significant conversations, in which Kingdom connections were made and seemingly, amazingly coincidental and serendipitous things just fell into place. He is at work! For his glory, for our good.

'When you have brought up kids, there are certain memories you store directly in your tear ducts.’ - Robert Brault










Wednesday, June 15, 2011

From the sublime to the ridiculous

I took this picture at tea time this afternoon. In the same conversation – in the space of a minute – Cam said the following:

‘Is this lemon iced-tea room temperature?’

And

‘My snot just popped out of my nose!’

Ok…!? J

These are pics from a winter evening in the playroom…





And here’s a passage from Isaiah that has been a real encouragement to me in the past few weeks. It ‘points us to a better time than ours’, as Matthew Arnold said:

"No longer will babies die when only a few days old. No longer will adults die before they have lived a full life. No longer will people be considered old at one hundred! Only the cursed will die that young! In those days people will live in the houses they build and eat the fruit of their own vineyards. Unlike the past, invaders will not take their houses and confiscate their vineyards. For my people will live as long as trees, and my chosen ones will have time to enjoy their hard-won gains. They will not work in vain, and their children will not be doomed to misfortune. For they are people blessed by the LORD, and their children, too, will be blessed. I will answer them before they even call to me. While they are still talking about their needs, I will go ahead and answer their prayers! The wolf and the lamb will feed together.  The lion will eat hay like a cow. But the snakes will eat dust. In those days no one will be hurt or destroyed on my holy mountain. I, the LORD, have spoken!" – Isaiah 65:20-25

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Of balloons and Bruce Springsteen

Two beautiful moments:

One:

A green, helium-filled balloon, shiny ribbon beckoning behind, floating up tinier and tinier into brightest blue, winter afternoon sky, released from a grubby three-year-old hand, quite merrily, with no ensuing tantrum, as if the three-year-old knew that it was time to let the balloon go, because it had served its purpose, on a day of coughing and sore ears and snot.

Two:

Bruce Springsteen is blaring in the kitchen – ‘our song’ from when we were dating:

…baby we were born to run… let me in, I wanna be your friend, I wanna guard your dreams and visions... I want to know if love is wild, girl, I want to know if love is real…

Murray is making Cam a cheese sandwich. I’m holding Scott and dancing and then – oops – he’s bringing up most of his last meal on my sweater, but I don’t care because we had no idea, ten years ago when we danced to this song, that one day we’d be so rich.

‘Don't store up treasures here on earth, where moths eat them and rust destroys them, and where thieves break in and steal. Store your treasures in heaven, where moths and rust cannot destroy, and thieves do not break in and steal. Wherever your treasure is, there the desires of your heart will also be.’ – Matthew 6:19-21

Monday, June 6, 2011

Midnight poetry

Night stirrings

A poem for Scott – 8 ½ months old

He cries into my sleep
And my feet find
Floor
Slippers
Gown
Dark stumbling passage

Ssh…
Bending down
Smooth sheets warm fleece grey elephant hugging
Ssh…

Now soft sighing tiny snores
Eyelids small pale placid lakes in the half night light
Closed on a smooth angel face
Little heavy warm body
Part of my arms
Swaying silent night

No more crying my love
Mommy’s here.

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Of singing grace and mobility

Thought I’d share this prayer that I sing with the boys sometimes before supper. I learned it at primary school (like, a hundred years ago) and it has always stuck with me – profound, simple:

Father, we thank you for the night
And for the pleasant morning light;
For rest and food and daily care
And all that makes the world so fair.
Help us to do the things we should –
To be to others kind and good.
Help us in all we think and say
To love you better day by day.

The past week I’ve been rapidly baby-safing the house – covering plugs, removing small swallow-able objects, putting toilet brushes out of reach, etc. Scott is everywhere – crawling, and curious! J